The figurative language of Rose Tremain…

Reading time: Less than 1 minute

I like to share interesting pieces of figurative language I encounter in my reading. I write today about a series of similes and metaphors from Rose Tremain…

I hadn’t read anything by British author Rose Tremain, (pictured above), until I happened to pick up her most recent book, The Gustav Sonata, at my local library. She’s an historical novelist described by journalist Suzanna Rustin as someone who who approaches her subjects “from unexpected angles, concentrating her attention on unglamorous outsiders.”

I was impressed enough by the Gustav Sonata that I gobbled it up in two days and I’ll be looking for other books she has written. Perhaps some of her figurative language will impress you, as well:

  • He spoke loudly and emphatically, as though he assumed he was with a party of deaf people.
  • In this spring of 1948, perhaps because of the steady reigns that had fallen at the end of winter, the flowers on the cherry were so abundant that the branches of the tree hung low towards the stones of the yard… He saw how the residents who went in and out of the building by that route, almost invariably paused and stood staring at the tree, with its cargo of beauty
  • She was in that place, like a dark and silent lake, where people go when they’re asleep.
  • The path was wide but overgrown. Wild strawberries were growing at its edge: tiny points of red, like beads of blood among the bandages of green leaves.